


Absolution

by Bronnwyn



Series: Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 11:07:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7505941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bronnwyn/pseuds/Bronnwyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon washes away the aftermath of battle. Sansa watches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absolution

**Author's Note:**

> I just got this prompt on Tumblr and wanted to share with my AO3 readers: "Sansa watches Jon washing himself without him knowing. She never thought she'd be aroused by a man, not after what she'd be through but watching Jon changes that. Post Battle of the Bastards"
> 
> I wrote this in like ten minutes. Enjoy.

Though Sansa had not been in the thick of the battle, she still wore its grime as surely as any soldier.

Ramsay’s screams echoed through her mind as she walked down Winterfell’s otherwise silent halls. Not as a prisoner, but a Stark. The wolves were home once more and it filled Sansa’s heart with warmth. Warmth she doubted would ever return to her. Not after Joffrey. Not after King’s Landing. Not after Ramsay. And yet, here she was. Triumphant. Never again would Ramsay look at her, touch her, brutalize her.

Never again, never again. The Bolton bastard was dead. Joffrey was dead. She could finally begin the task of mending together the broken pieces that had become her mess of a life.

There was a door open at the end of the corridor. Not by much. Just a crack, the orange glow of candlelight warming the floor. Sansa frowned. She came to this part of the castle thinking it would be abandoned. Victory feasts were well under way. Their soldiers cared little if they hadn’t much food. They had plenty of ale and wood for a fire. That’s all they needed to celebrate.

Sansa couldn’t bear it. Not right now. Everything had been…it had been so much. Watching the battle unfold was hard enough. The clang of the all those swords would no doubt haunt her until the end of her days.

The door was still open. And Sansa hadn’t anything else to do but investigate.

_Has someone gotten lost?_  She thought vaguely. _No. Probably some couple looking for someplace private._

If that was the case, she certainly did not want to disturb them. 

She paused a moment, listening. There were no… _noises_  coming from within. Not a couple, then.

She advanced, eyes heavy with the length of the day.

As she neared the door, she heard the distinctive sounds of… _splashing._  Gentle splashing, but splashing nonetheless. Curiosity sufficiently piqued, she neared the door, pressing her hand to its surface so that she could peek inside.

_Just for a moment,_  she told herself.

What she saw within that room rooted her firmly to the ground and would not let go.

It was Jon. Dressed only in his gore-caked trousers. And nothing else. He dipped his hands in a bucket of water on the floor, bringing forth a rag and wringing the excess water out. It dripped black at his feet. The hard contours of his body were smeared in filth and the smell coming from the room was none too pleasant and Sansa knew she should have recoiled at the sight of him.

She knew she should not have been standing here, rendered useless by the sight of him–half-naked and filthy–but she could not get her feet to move and she could not look away. Her gaze followed Jon’s powerful hands as they moved the rag along the chiseled lines of his torso, scrubbing away at mess the battle had made of him.

His face was the only part of him that was clean. His hair was pulled back as he liked to have it these days, only a few pieces of it escaping to fall into his eyes. Sansa’s mouth went dry.

She knew she had to go. Before he saw her. Before the ache inside of her grew any worse. She had to go. Disgust roiled in her stomach along with that strange heat. Wrong wrong wrong. She had to go.

Jon bent to the bucket again. When he did, he looked to the door, perhaps alerted by his soldier’s intuition that there was…was someone _else_. Someone there. Someone like her.

Sansa’s eyes widened as Jon’s gaze found hers. Her stomach dropped. She turned on her heel and hurried down from whence she came. She pretended not to hear the door creak open behind her.

“Sansa?” Jon called.

Sansa did not stop walking. She did not stop until she was outside the walls of Winterfell, until she tasted snowflakes on her tongue.

Only then could she breathe. Only then did that heat fade away.


End file.
